Chapter 5

Monday morning usually marks the start of the week of familial routine, but this morning I awoke with an excited anticipation of the week ahead. Beverly and I had turned a corner over the weekend, and I knew there was no going back.

As I woke up and smelled the bacon, literally since my wife was marking the occasion by making a traditional breakfast, I realized how brilliant she was to create rules for the use of 'her' cock while we were apart. The rules meant that the typically sexless and distant part of the week, with me at work and her at home, was going to be a continuous part of our blossoming erotic exploration. Pretty, and oh so smart. I knew I was lucky man as I scrupulously avoided playing with myself while I prepared for my workday.

With the kids getting ready for school we didn't really have a chance to talk, but through inference and non-verbal communication we made it clear that today should probably be a relaxed day, and that we were both fine with that.

I was doing well keeping my focus ... keeping my mind on my work, with the sense of delicious sexuality like beautiful orchestral music: as long as it was in the background it provided a wonderful soundtrack to the mundane business of the day.

And then it happened ... the first time I would have to call my wife and report the conditions of her cock. Every Monday morning I held a 9am division meeting for my group. We worked for an industry publication. The details are boring except to say that my group published online and hardcopy daily, weekly and monthly news of enormous importance to the global industry members, that at the same time was utterly inconsequential to everyone else in the world.

My group consisted of three women reporters, Kim 25, Maria 27 and Chanda 30, and my technical guru, Josh, who was just out of college and looked like he was still in high school.

Kim was late, as usual. She was a waifish girl, physically and temperamentally nearly the opposite of Beverly. Flat chest, skinny hips, tiny body and a mane of blonde hair that she only occasionally brushed. "Unusually beautiful" in the sense that her looks were atypical, but very attractive in a sensually arousing way.

One trait she did share with Beverly was a demonstrated self-confidence. The youngest of my reporters, she was also in most ways the best of the group, and among the best in the company. And she knew it.

I had my groups, sans Kim, gathered in the "cube farm" where they all worked. I sat on the edge of one of the desks near my office door and went through the publication schedule for the week.

Fifteen minutes into a twenty minute meeting Kim traipsed in like she had just rolled out of bed, right off of her boyfriend's stiff prick. She was clad in a short dress, or a long sweater depending on your point of view. Her breasts were so small she seldom wore a bra, and her nipples appeared as stiff little nuggets under the smooth fabric of the dress. She was barelegged, no tights or pantyhose, though the subtle outline of thong panties were barely visible on her boyish hips.

Her hair was wild and tousled and her makeup so minimal it might have simply been left over from the night before. She wore glasses with thick black frames and I never knew whether they were prescription, simply decorative, or both.

All of this was provocative, but within the range of Kim's usual attire so I managed to keep my soundtrack of classical sex music in the background of my mind ... a little louder than before, but still in the backround. That is, until she stepped around the file cabinet and I got to see the final piece of the minimal outfit.

Kim was wearing gladiator style sandals an almost perfect match for those Beverly had worn the night before. Her petite little toenails were painted a slightly brighter shade of red, but the similarity was a shock to my already weakened state of concentration.

The orchestra of sexual tension in my head was suddenly all brass and cymbals and timpani drums. I know that I stopped, mid-sentence, in whatever I had been saying. I'm pretty sure I gazed for many more beats than the half-second normally allowable in an office environment. I'm afraid I may have gaped, and by some small miracle I apparently didn't drool.

And she noticed ... goddamn it. I was sure Kim noticed my lapse of rationality and I was certain that she knew she was the cause, and even more specifically that her pretty little feet were giving me fits of lust that had awakened my animal instincts.

I could feel my balls starting to roil, and the lusty weight of them start to stretch my sack, preparing my body to deliver a hot load of semen into the vixen should the opportunity arise. And I could feel that hardening, the feeling of warmth and fullness and manly power between my legs that directed my thoughts in a decidedly unprofessional manner.

Unbidden and uncontrollable, a ravenous image filled my mind. I envisioned myself closing the distance between us in one quick stride, looming over the tiny girl and pulling her unkempt hair to force her face toward mine, mouth gasping open to accept my invading tongue, then spinning her over her desk, yanking up her dress to reveal her tight little ass, then tearing her thong aside to violate her hot, wet cunt.

By the time I resumed control of my own attention, my wife's cock was throbbing in my pants. I was so glad that my clipboard had already been positioned in a way that kept the tent in my pants covered.

I was barely hanging on to my civilized manners, while Kim was a cool hand. She just gave me a cryptic little grin. How much intimate understanding of my plight was she hiding behind those nerdy glasses?

"Sorry I'm late. I had it rough this morning." She stood in front of her own desk and stretched her arms absently over her head. The hem of her dress rose dangerously close to the crotch of her panties, but stopped just short of the critical reveal.

"I'll bet you did," Maria retorted acerbically. The girls all got along quite well, but Maria had been raised in a strict Catholic household, and she didn't really appreciate Kim's more libertine approach to life in general and to her workplace manners in specific.

Kim shrugged off the comment as Chanda giggled. Kim tipped back against the front of her desk and flexed her tasty toes. I was convinced she knew I was unable to tear my eyes away. The diminutive tart stared straight at my crotch and asked in an offhand manner, "how many inches are you giving me today, boss?"

"Seven," the number leapt out of my mouth before I even heard it in my head. I'd been in newsrooms as long as she had been alive and somehow I responded to my reporter's standard question about her morning work assignment with my cock length.

"Great, that's a little more than I usually get, but I can definitely squeeze that in before lunch." She was staring at the clipboard, where I had written the assignments earlier that morning, and the only thing keeping everyone on my team from viewing the aching source of my addled state. I hoped she couldn't read the '5' next to her name for the number of inches I had originally, and traditionally, assigned her in our Monday newsletter.

"Okay, team, that's a wrap." I retreated into the quiet sanctity of my office, careful to keep my bulging problem covered. I had to report to its owner, after all, and needed to compose myself.

"I was wondering how long it would be," Beverly said knowingly when she picked up the call from my office line. "Actually, I know how long it is, I just wondered how much time would pass before you got my cock hard for me."

"I managed until nine-thirty! I wanted to tell you how your cock got hard, and ask you if I can play with it."

"Wait," she interrupted, "let me guess. Monday morning you have a staff meeting ... and such a wonderful staff it is, so smart and charming. I'm guessing it wasn't Josh. Or Maria, though I think one of these days that girl is going to explode from an overload of frustration. Maybe Chanda ... she's nice and curvy, but too shy, and reserved." She paused a second as though she was waiting for a sign from me. She didn't need one.

"So, Kim. Sexy, slutty, skinny Kim. I'll bet she came in this morning looking like that bear of a boyfriend just finished mauling her, and... 'oh my gosh I forgot my underwear!'" Beverly mocked Kim's slightly Southern accent in a high-pitched voice. "'But that doesn't matter, because if I show my shaved little twat to my boss, he'll give me a raise rather than fire me for being late.' Am I close?"

I laughed, "Not too far off, babe ... only I haven't yet seen her bald twat ... you think she'd really show me if I gave her a raise?"

"Dirty old bastard, she's half your age!" Beverly laughed.

"And how do you know her twat is bald, anyway?"

"Hmm, are you imagining me and Kim naked together, playing with each other's pussies?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"And are you looking at her right now, through those glass walls of your office into her open cubicle?"

"Yes."

"Then don't you worry about how I know her pussy is shaved. Tell me how you really got hard, and if you happen to hear anything in the background, I should tell you that I'm on our bed, and I'm naked, and I've got my favorite vibrator and I'm rubbing myself as you tell me."

"Well," I swallowed hard, trying to clear the frog of sexual tension from my voice, "it was like you said. She was late, and she looked like she'd been gang-banged this morning, or maybe just all through the night and she rolled in without sleeping."

"What's she wearing?" I heard my wife catch her breath.

"Just a long sweater, barely covers her butt."

"Her impossibly small, tiny little ass?"

"Yes."

"I hate her." Beverly's voice started in a giggle and caught in a gasp of pleasure as she worked over her clit. "Go on ... don't stop."